The Casual Blog

One week ago today that we were waking up on the island of Grand Cayman. We had a sweet four-night get away.

We got off to a rough start, when we missed our 6:00 a.m. flight by seconds.  Note to self:  check in and security lines are more crowded at 6:00 than at 7:00.  I’ve forgiven the TSA agent who confiscated Sal’s moisturizer for being in a 4 ounce (rather than 3 ounce) container, but I can’t get over how idiotic the rule is that cost us half a day of vacation. I’ve also forgiven the gate agent who closed the door as we were approaching and refused to open it as the plane sat there for a couple of more minutes, but it was a bitter moment.  Sal was in tears.  We regrouped and got a flight four hours later.  Instead of arriving at 1:30 in the afternoon, we got there at 9:00 p.m.

A lunatic rooster started crowing around 5:00 a.m.  Apparently this is the national bird of the Caymans. Our resident rooster was reliable every morning.

We stayed at a scuba oriented hotel named Sunset House.  Palm trees and turqoise water, a cheery thatch roofed open air bar, and dive boat right in front.  It was my first time diving since completing my certification in January 2008, so I was hoping I could get my rental equipment properly assembled  and avoid both embarassment and accidents.  There were no real problems, though I did put the weight belt on the wrong way.

I did two dives every morning.  The boat trips were all less than 30 minutes, and some less than 15 minutes.  Water was beautifully clear, though a tad chilly.  Some highlights:  Eagle Ray Rock, Cheeseburger Reef, Great House Wall, La Mesa.  The coral reefs were amazing, teeming with flora and fauna, thousands of little fish and many bigger ones (barricuda, tarpon, grouper).  I swam with sting rays and sea turtles for the first time. It was peaceful and so beautiful.

Sal took the resort course again, and I joined her for guided diving in the afternoons.  Her teacher, Lauren, was extremely complimentary about her technique.  We covered the reef in front of Sunset House, which was well worth visiting.  The last day we saw three sea turtles and a large sting ray.

We made it a point to try as many different colorful rum drinks as possible.  Georgetown, which was about a mile from our hotel, was not especially charming, but we enjoyed our dinner overlooking the bay at Guy Harvey’s.  We also ate one evening at Fisherman’s Reef at Morgan’s Harbor, where it was very windy.  Our cabbie on the ride back was Diana, and she filled us in on the local politics and points of interest.

The trip home involved a substantial wait at the Grand Cayman airport and a four-hour layover in Miami.  We finally learned the reason for duty free shops:  cheap liquor.  We also tried out the new electronic gadgets in Brookstone, including video enabled glasses.  I made substantial progress on A. Lincoln, by Ronald White, and listened to the entirety of the Marriage of Figaro and Bruckner’s Third.  We made it home before midnight.

    Milk, the movie, was moving and inspiring.  Harvey Milk was a gay activist in the 1970s who got elected to the San Francisco board of supervisors and was assassinated.  As played by Sean Penn, Milk is funny, sweet, creative, and brave.  

    Early in the movie, on his fortieth birthday, Milk tells a new lover that he’s never done anything in his life he’s proud of.  He had lived the life of a reasonably successful, closeted businessman in New York City.  He changed that, by moving to San Francisco, opening a camera shop in the gay district, and becoming a community organizer.  He succeeded in winning election to the city counsel, and in being a leader that made a difference.

    The movie helps us understand better the point of the gay rights movement.  Even those of us who don’t especially like watching men kiss can see why people would get angry when police arrest them for no apparent reason, or when violent hate crimes against them are not prosecuted.  There are parallels with the civil rights movement, though I wouldn’t want to push them too far.   To judge from the movie, Harvey Milk was never aspiring to sainthood.  But he worked for human rights.  

    The U.S. has come a ways in its attitude towards gays since Harvey Milk’s day.  There are no longer routine police roundups of gays.  In some places and some social strata, there’s a considerable degree of acceptance and openness.  But gay bashing still exists, and  the gay marriage fight is a depressing reminder that there’s still a lot of prejudice.  Milk the movie should open a few more eyes and hearts.  

     it could make a few  people ask the Milk question:   have I not done anything in my life for which I’m truly proud?  And maybe a few of those people will transform their lives, and help transform the world.

Raleigh’s own ballet company, the Carolina Ballet, just keeps getting better.  It’s now in its eleventh season, and Sally and I have been subscribers for ten of them.  We skipped the first because we thought it would probably fail in year one.   Glad we were so wrong.

Last night they performed two ballets by director Ricky Weiss — Tempest Fantasy and Kreutzer Sonata.  It was particularly satisfying to see Kreutzer again after a gap of several years.  The Tolstoy story concerns a love triangle that simmers with jealosy and ends in murder.  As realized by Weiss, it becomes a meditation on the awful power of art and its relation to passion and human nature.  It’s a deep, dark work.  The narrator (last night, Charles Keating) tells stranger about his history of love, and moves back and forth in time, as the story develops through overlapping arts — literature, music, and dance .

It was particularly satisfying to hear Randy Love, my piano teacher and friend, perform the piano part of Kreutzer with members of the Ciompi Quartet.  He played really well, and met my baseline test for art that works:  goosebumps.  The section where the illicit couple play the first movement of the Kreutzer together starts as a chamber performance and becomes a fantasy (whose?) of love/betrayal.  It shows how music may not only express passion, but inflame passion and transforms life.

Randy, Elaine, and their friend Jarol came out with us afterwards to The Mint for drinks.  The place is in the high deco style, and looks fabulous.  No live music that night, unfortunately, but an upbeat, attractive group of patrons and servers.   I tried the Bonnie, a black cherry vodka concoction that was delicious.  Good conversation.

Last night Jocelyn and I had dinner at Bright Palace, the one and only vegetarian sushi restaurant in Cary (and probably in the Southeastern United States).  Great food, including rolls of many spicy flavors. Joc was feeling positive about the veggie lifestyle, as was I.  It’s easy when you have such a variety of delicious options.

We talked of poetry, fiction, and history.  She’s just finished a major Chaucer project, and found it more enjoyable than expected.  She recommended a Cormac McCarthy work in terms that did not close the sale (“the most violent novel ever”).  And we talked about the genocide of the American indigenous people, and how curious it is that without any formal censorship the subject gets suppressed throughout early grade history classes.  As  college students specialize, those with technical specialities may never get the word.

A painful subject from many angles.  But what a good conversation.  This is a highly satisfying phase of parenthood.

Here goes — a new blog, conceived en route from LAX to RDU.  A good flight, kudos to Continental for both serving some breakfast and flying on time.  A good time for thinking, reading (A. Lincoln), listening to music that normally just takes too much time  (Mahler’s Ninth and Don Giovanni, both start to finish).   Good to be back in NC, and starting something new.